To-do List
by Lennelle
Summary: Honestly, Bobby never had to deal with children very often before he met John Winchester. He's out of his depth most of the time, never mind something like this.


I totally forgot about this one! Here's the last of the ohsam prompt fills. The prompt was: 1) Bobby's house 2) Bobby and/or Dean 3) Unclean

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Bobby watches the boys from his desk. One eye on the book in front of him, the other on the kids curled up on his couch. Little Sammy has a thumb stuck in his mouth and it makes him look three years old rather than seven. His eyes are wide and bright in the television screen's glow, and he's latched onto his brother like a limpet.

"Maybe Sam should go to bed," Bobby suggests. Someone on the TV screams and Sam flinches, tucking his head under Dean's arm.

"Not fair, uncle Bobby!" Sam protests, voice muffled by Dean's shirt. "I'm not scared, I promise."

"Right," Bobby chortles. "You just stuck your face in Dean's armpit because the view was better?"

Dean laughs and pats the top of Sam's curly head. "Go to bed, squirt. I'll come up when the movie's over."

Sam pops his head out from his hiding place. "But you have to take me upstairs. The light's in the hallway and it'll be dark all the way up the stairs before I can turn it on."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I thought your weren't scared."

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not."

Another bloodcurdling shriek sounds from the television set and Sam is off the couch and hurtling behind the desk in a second. He grabs Bobby's sleeve.

"Will you tuck me in, uncle Bobby?" he whispers. He glances to check if Dean's listening, but his brother is too busy watching the movie. "And can you wait until I fall asleep?"

Bobby glances at the enormous pile of work he hasn't finished, then he looks at Sam Winchester's doe-eyes. There isn't really much choice. He takes Sam's small hand in his and leads him out of the room.

"I'm taking Sam to bed," he tells Dean. Dean nods, eyes still on the TV.

Sam clings the back of Bobby's shirt and sticks close to his heels all the way up the dark staircase. The kid lets out a breath when the upstairs hallway light is flicked on.

"Brush your teeth and get into your PJs," Bobby tells him, nudging the boy into the bathroom. "You got any story books?"

Sam shakes his head sadly. "Dad says there's not enough room in the car," he says. Bobby clenches his jaw and adds 'smack some sense into John Winchester' to his to-do list. He puts on a smile for Sam. "I'll tell you a story anyway, I've got a lot stored away in my noggin, you see."

Sam grins, flashing the gap where his front two teeth should be. He hurries off into the bathroom and Bobby waits in the spare room next to Sam's bed. There's a tiny, red plastic Power Ranger on the pillow that has the Mcdonald's logo printed onto its back. One of the arms is missing, it's suit is faded to pink in some areas. Bobby adds 'buy boys some toys for when they visit' to his to-do list.

Sam comes rushing back in the room, trying to escape the now-dark bathroom. He's in a race getting changed into his pyjamas: a t-shirt made for a grown adult with a diner logo on the front. He hops up into bed and Bobby tucks the covers around him.

"What kind of story do you want?" he asks.

Sam shrugs, fiddling with the Power Ranger's remaining arm. He glances up shyly. "Uncle Bobby, are you really smart?"

Bobby chuckles. "I think I've got some smarts, just enough to get the job done."

Sam looks down at his red Power Ranger. "Can I ask you a question?" he asks.

Bobby nods.

"In that movie, everyone was chasing the monster," Sam says. "They wanted to hurt it."

"Well, the monster did a lot of bad," Bobby explains. "It was chasing those people first, so the people were just defending themselves."

"But why did the monster do bad stuff?" Sam asks.

"That's what monsters do," Bobby says.

Sam frowns. "How did it become a monster? Was it always like that?"

"It's just a movie. It's not real, Sam," Bobby lies.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm bad," Sam admits. "Dean likes Batman and King Arthur and, and I like 'em, too. But I don't think I'd be allowed to go on a quest like them, not like Dean."

"Why's that?" Bobby asks, frowning.

"You have to be good and pure to go on a quest like that," Sam tells him. "That's what the stories say. I'm... "

"You're what, Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "Dirty."

Bobby just about stops breathing. In his head, he's cursing John Winchester. He curses the whole goddamned messed up world for putting thoughts like this in a seven-year-old boy's head.

"Listen here, Sam," Bobby says, leaning forward to try to get Sam to look at him. "You are good, you hear? You've never done a bad thing. You aren't bad. You aren't dirty. Where in the hell did you get that idea, anyway?"

Sam is avoiding looking at Bobby and he curls up under the blanket until only the top of his head is sticking out. "I don't know. I just know it."

He closes his eyes and Bobby suspects the conversation is over, for now. Honestly, Bobby never had to deal with children very often before he met John Winchester. He's out of his depth most of the time, never mind something like this. He strokes the top of Sam's head, brushes the fine, soft curls and he says good night.

He adds 'help Sam' to the top of his to-do list.

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Thanks so much for reading! Leave a review if you can :) I'm planning a much more lighthearted fic for the next time I post, don't worry!


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